


Inseparable

by MaraudingManaged



Series: LF2020 [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Grief/Mourning, LF2020, Resurrection Stone, TeamEros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:22:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22807036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaraudingManaged/pseuds/MaraudingManaged
Summary: She knows this isn’t a good idea, really. Harry threw the stone away for good reason, and it’s stupid for her to have come chasing through the forest searching for it.But Merlin, how shemisseshim
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Theodore Nott
Series: LF2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1628197
Comments: 12
Kudos: 31
Collections: Love Fest 2020





	Inseparable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tabbycat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tabbycat/gifts).



> Written for LoveFest 2020 in the Fairest of the Rare! 
> 
> Izzy, I hope you enjoy the little ficlet!

Hermione stares at the oddly-shaped, cracked stone in her hand for what feels like an eternity. 

It’s not as if she isn’t aware of the power this stone holds. She’s heard of it, first-hand, from Harry; the devastating lure into his own death by those that he loves, despite never having really known most of them. It would be easy for magic to play a trick on him, to draw him into a dream of a life he can never have, and so to accept a death where he might have been granted it. 

But Hermione  _ knows _ him. She’d know without a shadow of a doubt if it was real. 

Wouldn’t she? 

Her tongue darts out, moistening her lips. She knows this isn’t a good idea, really. Harry threw the stone away for good reason, and it’s stupid for her to have come chasing through the forest searching for it. It won’t bring her any closure, of that she’s certain. 

But Merlin, how she  _ misses _ him. It burns fierce and bright in her chest just how much she misses his face, his dry wit, his intelligence… the stolen moments before she left the castle last summer where they were intertwined -  _ inseparable _ \- in the Room of Requirement. 

He chose the wrong time to be stupidly, idiotically brave. 

Because that’s what he had been, the day of the battle, and it had cost him his life. 

Hermione tosses the stone in her hand, careful not to turn it. Indecision is tearing her apart at the seams, and she doesn’t know what to do. Or rather, she knows exactly what she  _ should  _ do - fling the stone into the abyss of the forest and hope some unfortunate creature eats the bloody thing or treads it so deeply into the ground it will never emerge again. It’s just that she can’t seem to be able to bring herself to do it. 

He’d be cursing her right now for even considering it, she knows. She’s cursing herself for even coming out here in the first place, the twilight of the muggy summer evening settling in like a cloak around her. 

She doubles over on the grass, clutching her stomach as she heaves a dry sob. She wants to see him, she wants to let him rest. She needs to move on, but she cannot stop herself from clinging on to the hope that there is some part of him still existing in the world. It is destroying her, the knowledge that the man who killed him still lives and breathes, albeit in the confines of a cell in Azkaban. She hates that he is being provided for in the new prison system she has, in part, demanded be implemented in a shade of the Muggle justice system. 

Hermione stares down at the stone in her hand, and her fist clenches around it so tightly that its jagged edges cut into her skin

She turns the stone over in her hand. Once, twice, thrice. 

She cannot look up from the dewy grass, but she hears his sigh in the stillness. It is unmistakably his, even though it feels… thinner. Lost, somehow. 

“Oh, love, what have you done?” He asks, and she looks up to meet his sad mossy eyes with tears streaming down her face, regret and guilt and joy and self-loathing all intermingled. But she can still feel it. She can feel the veil between them; a strange thickness in the air that she thinks she might be able to touch if she tries to reach out. A feeling that she has crossed a boundary that she never should have tested. 

She cannot stop herself because he is here, as close to real as he will ever be again; and she yearns for him in a way she’s never wanted anything else in her life. And more than that, she knows without a doubt that it is  _ him _ , even in this phantom shade.

The whisper leaves her lips, drenched in all of the longing and agony she feels for the death of the boy who she loved, who loved her, and gave his life to protect her - and she cannot feel enough guilt about it in that one moment, even though she knows it will likely be her undoing. 

“Theo.” 

  
  



End file.
